


swallow the poison (spit out your blood)

by vegaisthesound



Category: One Piece
Genre: M/M, Read the warnings, crimelord doffy, pickpocket law
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-18 01:31:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3551060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vegaisthesound/pseuds/vegaisthesound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doflamingo is very ambitious, but he's smart about it. He's learned from others' mistakes, and doesn't intend to make any while he's in charge of the fastest growing criminal empire on this side of the country. Still, when a risky investment of questionable value crosses his path, it's too tantalizing to just let it get away. He can handle one fucked up brat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I've been sitting on this AU for a while so.. fuck it, here you go. Inspired by the prompt “kissed them as a distraction while stealing their wallet.” Art for this au can be found [on my tumblr](http://vegaisthesound.tumblr.com/tagged/pickpocket-au)
> 
> Please read the warnings at the beginning of each chapter, they will be updated. This fic is gonna be messed up. If you have questions about what ways exactly it'll be messed up before you start reading, just drop me a PM and I can give you a rundown of all the expected warnings.
> 
> WARNING: explicit violence & noncon feat. sex-averse Law

Life in the underworld brought Doflamingo many insights on the human condition. 

Hell didn't exist. Evil was a myth. Praying to God for salvation would never work, because the only devil was man himself.

Corruption, misery, suffering. All were manmade. 

And the desire for destruction was something everyone had. The progression of society naturally led to this. 

Harnessing destruction was the only means towards power, but still there was always the risk of destroying yourself in the process. Power was intoxicating, blinding, debilitating. Lust for power, for dominance, for ownership, would only lead to your early demise at the hands of that which you sought to control. 

Doflamingo had seen the pattern everywhere he looked in history. He watched it happen over and over again with his own eyes. Men overburdened with desire, collapsing under the weight of their own audacity and blind pride, ruined by greed. 

And yet, those who remained humble only gained a long life laboring under the yoke of those same men. 

It was easy to decide which he would rather be.

…

 

One night Doflamingo is standing outside of a restaurant with a few of his men, chatting on the sidewalk while waiting for the car to come around. He's not really paying attention to his surroundings – it's been a pretty laid back evening so far, just dinner with an old friend – when some passerby walks straight into him.

He's surprised, but after a bottle of good wine his temper is fairly subdued so he doesn't shove the guy into traffic like he might on another occasion. All he does is say, “Watch it,” rather mildly, his men observing the scene silently. 

But the stranger doesn't move away and keep walking as expected. Instead he looks up at Doffy with a lazy smirk and presses full up against him, drawling, “Oh, hello handsome.”

Doffy's brows shoot up when he finds himself being dragged down by his tie into a wet kiss that reeks of vodka, and he grabs the skinny wrist of the hand that palms over his crotch, using it to force the other man to take a step back.

The man doesn't appear at all dissuaded, grinning at him with the fuzzy levity of someone who's far too drunk to realize who they had just felt up.

The guy's blatant come on could have been cause enough to leave him in an alley with a busted leg, but he also happens to be quite good looking himself, and the alcoholic fumes were so strong Doffy feels like he caught a bit of a buzz from that kiss, so Doffy finds the whole situation more amusing than not. He grins back at the guy, letting go of his wrist in favor of dropping a hand on his shoulder and guiding him away in the direction he had been walking before encountering Doffy as an obstacle. “Get lost, kid.”

The guy laughs but continues on his merry way without a fuss, and with only a slight lilt to his gait.

Vergo is watching him skeptically, and Doflamingo chuckles, “That brat is really asking for trouble.”

At that moment their car pulls up to the curb, and Doffy straightens his jacket as one of his men opens the door for him. Then he pauses. And checks all his pockets again. 

That fucking kid just stole his wallet.

“Find that little shit and bring him back, he's a fucking pickpocket,” he snaps, and two men dutifully break away from the group to sprint down the road in the direction the thief disappeared in. 

Doflamingo glares after them, then gets in the car, followed by Vergo. 

“That was a very insolent move,” Vergo says flatly as they drive away.

“Stupid fucker has balls, at least,” Doffy growls. Maybe not for long though.

…

Shortly after he gets back to the house, his men return with the thief in tow. 

They leave him handcuffed to a chair in one of the basement rooms, and that's where Doflamingo sees him for the second time, ugly bruises blooming over his face and blood drying on his chin from a split lip, with all the possessions he was carrying laid out on a table, including Doffy's wallet. 

The guy looks younger after being roughed up, sitting barefooted without his coat, in just jeans and a flimsy t-shirt. He really is skinny, a leanness that hinted at days gone hungry. His eyes are pale, sullen, and completely alert. The drunkenness must have all been an act for the sake of catching rich men unawares. It would have worked too; if Doffy hadn't happened to notice his empty pocket before getting into the car this kid would have had plenty of time to escape scot-free.

Unfortunately for him, he wasn't as lucky as Doflamingo was tonight.

Doflamingo picks up his wallet and slides it back into his pocket after checking that nothing is missing, smiling cheerfully at the kid. 

“Not your best night, eh? You really picked the wrong man to mess with.”

The kid only watches him, and Doffy paws through the rest of the items on the table. A set of keys, a plastic Bic and an empty pack of cigarettes, a little folding knife, and a thin leather wallet. Doffy picks that up next and flips it open, finding an expired driver's license and not much else.

“Trafalgar Law. Only 24, hm? You're not looking so good, Law.”

He looks over the kid again, slowly so Trafalgar can really feel his appraisal, but the little shit doesn't so much as flinch. Well. That just wouldn't do.

Doflamingo drops the wallet back on the table and crosses the room with a few strides, coming to a stop right in front of Law. 

“It's rude not to speak when spoken to, kid. Didn't your mother teach you some manners?”

Law didn't keep eye contact with him when he moved. Instead of craning his neck to meet Doffy's eyes, his attention seems to have drifted off somewhere to the side. He still doesn't answer.

So Doflamingo backhands him, knuckles cracking across an already black-and-blue cheek. Law's head snaps to the side so fast he'll probably have whiplash in the morning, and he only makes a little noise in his throat, sounding more surprised than in pain.

Doffy gives him a second to regain his bearings before grabbing his jaw, pressing in a new set of bruises as he forces Law's chin up so he can grin right in his face, “Pay attention when I'm talking to you.”

Despite the injuries that Doffy has absolutely no compunctions about adding to, and more evidence of an unpleasant life that becomes obvious under decent light and closer inspection—the kid must look like death warmed over in bright sunshine—he can't help being pleased that his first impression is reaffirmed. 

Trafalgar Law really is good looking. His eyelashes are long and coal-black, his lips are full (and only slightly bloodied), and his high cheekbones make him look expensive. Doffy almost wishes he had thought to tell his men not to mess up his face.

However, Law is also just shy of gaunt, with unhealthy dark circles under those nice thick lashes. The kid looks so pathetic Doflamingo thinks he might be a junkie, and his head had to be at least a little unscrewed if he thought he could pull off such a brazen scam on a gang boss surrounded by men right on the open street.

And the longer Doflamingo looks, the more obvious it becomes that behind the obvious distaste there's something else lurking in Law's eyes. Something that's too sharp to be madness, and too unsettling to be called hate. Doflamingo has had a lot of experience with hate, he knows what it looks like after seeing it laid bare on so many faces, and hate never turned him on this fast.

Eventually Law decides he's looked too long and jerks out of his grip, and Doflamingo lets him go, deciding to reach down and start undoing his jeans instead. Law kicks him in the knee then, hard, but that doesn't stop him from popping open the button and drawing the zipper before taking hold of the waistband and tugging them off his hips. 

“Keep struggling, it's getting me hot,” he tells Law with a smirk. “You really shouldn't have tried to feel me up, you know. With a pretty face like yours, someone might take it the wrong way.”

Doffy gets the jeans dragged off his legs while Law fights him the whole way, only stopping for half a minute when Doflamingo sinks a fist into his gut. He pulls the kid's shirt up and over his head, which is about as far as he can get it with Law still cuffed to the chair, leaving him in only a pair of black shorts. 

“Oh, I like these,” he says, running both hands over the revealed tattoos inked into Law's dark skin. Law bares his teeth at him, his body coiled tense and unyielding under Doflamingo's touch. 

Doffy can trace a few individual ribs underneath the smooth skin and muscle. The kid is so skinny he can imagine exactly how hard he would have to press to crack one of those thin bones. It wouldn't take much, just a little force... and then snap.

He likes how slim Law looks under his hands, and how fucking _breakable_ he feels. It only takes a glance at Law's face, into those hard narrow eyes, to cement the fact that Doflamingo is going to spend the rest of the night exploring all of the brat's limits.

His hands switch direction and slide back down Law's sides until he hits sharp hipbones, then he dips a little lower and cups a palm between Law's legs, giving him a rub and a firm squeeze. Law's cock hardens up nicely inside his shorts with a little focused attention, and when Doffy finally pulls off the last remaining barrier it pops out, eager for more.

Doflamingo grins, “Look at this... you're a bit of a slut.” He closes his fist around the stiff length and gives it a few loose strokes. It's silky soft, and nice and hot against his palm.

That's what finally causes the brat to use his words. Law hisses, “What the fuck do you think you're doing?” His struggles begin again with fresh indignation, though Doflamingo holds him easily with a hand pressing down heavy on his thigh.

“What's it look like, kid? I'm gonna fuck you.”

“Don't touch me you piece of shit.”

“Who's going to make me stop? You?”

Law sneers at him, “I'll fucking kill you.”

It just makes Doflamingo laugh. “Such language...you really are a stupid brat. I'm going to enjoy this.”

He lets go, leaving Law hard, his cock flushed with a drop of precome beading on the tip, and exits the room without a glance back. He stops just outside the door and addresses the man he has standing guard there, “Bring him up to my room. Don't rough him up too much if he fights, I want him awake.”

...

He fucks him with a condom, of course. Who knew where the brat had been, who else had fucked him, whose dirty needles had been under that skin.

It's funny, but Law honestly looks more tortured receiving pleasure than pain. Abuse he seems to brush off with indifference; he doesn't scream, or cry, or any of the reactions that Doffy savors so much in others. It's only when Doflamingo starts concentrating on making him spill, then his face twists up like he's experiencing the most exquisite agony. It's fascinating. Doffy wants to force him to come again and again, until Law has ripped himself up into little shreds.

After he coaxes a second orgasm from the brat, Law's chest is heaving. Doffy can see the pulse beating fast in his throat. His eyes are fogged over, and he moans pitifully, turning his face into the sheets when Doffy doesn't stop. 

“Oh fuck. Fuck—I'm going to fucking kill you for this,” Law gasps, the words sounding like they're being dragged from him.

There's no sign of surrendering to the pleasure forced on him, or even the smallest hint of shameful enjoyment that would be apparent in even the most uncooperative victims. It genuinely seems like he hates coming, which makes Doflamingo wonder just how fucked in the head Law really is. 

Of course, he also indulges himself fully in the simple enjoyment of using Law for his own physical pleasure. Overall there's not a single dull moment during the time Doflamingo spends fucking him. Even towards the end, when Law has been worn down past the point of struggling or voicing protests, his eyes are still brimming with that vicious look, filled with poison just for him.

He lets the kid go once he gets tired, shoving him off the bed after the last round and calling for whoever is watching the door to come and escort him off the property.

Law gets dressed in his messed up clothes without a word, seeming to be out of threats. His neck is littered with fresh bite and suck marks, the shadows of fingertips plain to see on his jaw and hips and the insides of his thighs. Random bruises from his encounters with Doffy's fists, or his men, are dark and ugly in contrast with his smooth sepia skin. There's still dry blood in the corners of his lips.

He looks about three times worse leaving than he did coming in, and that's really saying something.

It's a nice look, and Doffy enjoys it even though Law doesn't spare him a second glance on his way out the door. Then he settles down to get a few hours of sleep before he has to start the day, not thinking any more of it. 

But the next day, when he's stuck in a family meeting that's beginning to drag on pointlessly, his thoughts wander back to the night before. Law's slender hips and bony feet had been sweet indeed, though Doflamingo is stuck on his eyes most of all.

Those lovely eyes continue to stick with him beyond the limits of a passing amusement. Whenever he has a few spare minutes to himself, they float up from his memory and spread themselves over his thoughts, silent and gray, like the huge wings of a moth. Heavy-lidded, exhausted, long lashes dipping low, or wide and sharp and bright with outrage, and always intently aware of him, always toxic.

Doflamingo finds himself wondering at the source of that toxicity. He believes he has a pretty good grasp on all types of misery that occupied the little gaps and crevices of someone's character, but he can't quite put his finger on what was so odd about Law. Poets claim the eyes are man's window to the soul, and the more Doflamingo thinks about it the more he wants to break Law open and lay his hands on that poison so he can feel it for himself. 

After a week of becoming only more distracted by his curiosity, to the point where even some of his family have asked what's on his mind when his attention lulls, he makes up his mind that there's nothing to be done except satisfy it. He sends someone to go track down the brat and bring him back to the house.

Instead of getting Law, his man is sent to the hospital with a knife wound in his gut that quickly turns septic. Which seems... only fitting. That's when Doflamingo decides this whole thing really requires his personal attention, from beginning to end.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: for more Doffy messing with sex-averse Law on purpose

Once Doflamingo takes the matter into his own hands, he realizes that keeping Law around just for sex would be a waste of potential. If he's already going through the trouble of making the brat a guest in his home, he might as well invest a little more time and effort to see whether Law could be cultivated into something useful. 

First impressions as they are, the kid is not in the most cooperative mood when Doffy manages to catch him for a second time. In fact, when Doflamingo offers a position in the family, he almost loses an eye to a fucking ballpoint pen Law nabbed off the guy who was supposed to check him for weapons. Doffy is undeterred by the irony. 

It comes down to making it very clear that he would be taking Law with him no matter what, and the only choice Law has in the matter is whether he wants a nice respectable job in exchange for the roof over his head, or to get tied up somewhere as the family's new source of stress relief instead. It's a bluff, Doffy's not that generous with his things, but he wouldn't mind letting Law get passed around for a week or two just to make his point.

At least that convinces Law to join the family as a member, instead of a diversion. The more Doffy saw him, the more he had to have him. He knew that one dead worker and an attempted blinding was really just a taste of everything else Law had to offer, and it really had been a long time since he found someone so damn interesting.

Doflamingo doesn't expect such an unfriendly deal to bring an end to the little shit's trouble making, but it still would have been nice to enjoy a little bit of peace after successful (on his side) negotiations. Wishful thinking. 

He doesn't want to start off on the wrong foot again by smothering Law with attention straight away (or wreck him by fucking him the way he's been dreaming of since he let him go that first night, even though he's dying to do that too). He understands the benefits of delaying gratification, he can wait. 

He leaves it up to Jora to get Law settled in the house, that way he can conveniently avoid the hassle that would be involved with beating the family rules into the kid's head. Meanwhile he tries to catch up with all the business he had been distracted from during the whole process of finding Law and bringing him into the fold. 

He doesn't talk to Law for a while after that, delegating the work of making sure he's behaving and being taken care of to others for the time being, but he pays close attention to how Law is acclimating to life with the family. Every night he listens to reports about the fresh shit the brat has stirred up that day.

It starts out simply enough. Predictably, Law is not a people person, and has little to no interest in ingratiating himself, so it's no surprise that he doesn't play well with others and makes no effort to follow any of the ground rules that Jora set out for him on his first night. 

Besides the usual necessities, the kid needs new clothes. He came along with only the shirt on his back, declining Doffy's generous offer to have someone stop by his house or apartment or whatever shithole he was living in to pick up his things, and he needs something to wear that'll stand up to the oncoming winter better than ripped jeans and a threadbare hoodie. 

Doffy puts Baby in charge of getting his sizes and stocking his wardrobe. That leads to an interesting situation—an unstoppable force versus an immovable brat. He has to spend over an hour calming the poor girl down the next day, and one of his favorite silk shirts ends up ruined by tears, but at least Law won't freeze on his watch.

Most family members share rooms, but three consecutive roommates refuse to stay in the same room as “that fucking freak” after only two weeks. As much as Doffy would like to keep Law in the master bedroom, he doesn't feel like taking the bet on which one of them would be walking out alive in the morning if he tried that this early in the game, so Law ends up with a room to himself.

At least Law seems to prefer living in the house to whatever he was doing before, since he doesn't run away. It's just damn hard to make him show up anywhere he's supposed to be instead of being shut away in his room, or found in strange places around the property, doing anything except working.

Normally new inductees would go through the whole process of earning rank, starting at the bottom by doing menial tasks for the other family members: acting as muscle, runners, lookouts, whatever was needed that didn't require anything more complicated than following an order to the letter.

But Law didn't take orders. He'd rather get the living hell kicked out of him before he'd do so much as run down to the store for a few packs of cigarettes, which is what ends up happening more than once just in the first week. Even Doflamingo can't get him to listen without a very compelling reason to back it up, and the rest of the family is simply shit out of luck. It's not like Doffy can drop everything to go personally reprimand Law every time he decides to be a stubborn little shit. 

Doflamingo has to give up on that route early on. He didn't want Law to get beaten to death by his own men before he had a chance to really see what the brat was capable of, after all. 

After a couple weeks of Law staying in the house and still looking like he's got both feet in the grave, Doffy tells Bellamy to find out whether Law is using drugs, and make sure he eats a hot meal and sleeps at least once a day. 

In hindsight, choosing Bellamy was an obvious mistake. Doffy had just been staring at Law and thinking the kid was going to keel over soon if he didn't gain some weight and get a solid few hours of rest, and Bellamy had been the closest grunt at hand. 

This is brought to his attention by Law and Bellamy almost killing each other in the dining room a few days later. He takes Bellamy off the task and puts Monet on it. Law really had to be treated with more finesse, and Monet's glacial sense of composure would come in handy when dealing with Law's... unique personality.

Luckily Bellamy had done such a shit job that it didn't seem as though Law realized what he was trying to do in the first place, and Monet's non-confrontational style is ultimately much more successful. 

After that Law starts looking more like a living human every day, a far cry from the scrawny meth-chic punk they dragged in a month ago. Doflamingo, on the other hand, has developed a chronic migraine from listening to complaints about the kid every goddamn day. 

One night Doflamingo retreats to his study after another long day spent dealing with business problems on top of family problems, and sinks into his desk chair with an irritated sigh. Then he looks up and notices Law curled up into one of the overstuffed chairs, leaning on one of the chair arms and feet tucked against the other, with a thick book open across his thighs, completely ignoring him. 

It's the first time he's been alone in a room with Law since they met. He'd been giving the kid plenty of space, and of course Law never sought him out on his own. 

His annoyance is immediately forgotten, replaced by intrigue, though there's still the problem of this being his private study, restricted only to those family members with a prior invitation. The brat must have picked the lock, or gotten the key off one of his executives somehow.

“This room is off limits, Law.”

Law replies without looking up from his book, “I don't have permission?”

“I don't remember giving you any.” 

Law doesn't respond, and makes no sign of moving either.

Doflamingo gets up from behind the desk and walks over so he can see what the kid is reading. He recognizes the book as a classified military study on the use of Agent Orange that he picked up ages ago from a Cambodian politician. Not exactly light reading, and half of it is in Vietnamese.

“What's wrong with the other library, hm? Don't tell me you've read all of the books in there already.” 

Law brushes his hand away when he reaches down to take the book, so Doffy slides his fingers into Law's hair instead, tugging his head back and making him look up.

“If you wanted something from in here, you could have asked.”

Law doesn't say anything, just stares at him blankly. Doffy lets go, and puts two fingers under Law's chin, keeping him from going back to the book. 

“You look good lately. Getting used to the house? Anyone giving you trouble?” He already knows all about the trouble Law has been giving everyone else, but he's interested if Law has anything to say for himself.

“No.” 

“What's the problem then? You're not doing any work, and that wasn't the deal we made. I'm not feeding you for free, you realize.”

Law doesn't have an answer for him, and Doffy strokes over his jaw with a thumb. 

“We can figure something out. I don't need a pickpocket though, especially not one that gets caught. What else did you do for money?”

“Sex,” Law says tonelessly. 

Doffy knows he's not lying, the people he sent to find Law had reported at night he tended to hang out around bars and nightclubs to solicit the men inside. The brat's being deliberately provocative though, that much is obvious. 

He tilts Law's head to the side, pretending to study him like a product. “Are you positive for anything?”

Law smiles slowly, finally breaking his indifferent expression. “Who knows.” 

“You're probably one of those fucked up bug chasers, aren't you? You like taking dirty cocks?” 

Law's unsettling smile doesn't falter. That poison is blooming in his eyes again, unfurling dark and decadent, daring him to ignore the risk and indulge himself anyway as clearly as if Law had said it out loud.

Doffy makes a note to get him tested. If the brat didn't have anything incurable he could fuck him without a condom next time, and get some use out of his insolent mouth, but he's not about to throw caution to the wind just for the sake of bare-backing the little slut tonight.

“I don't need any whores either, so think of something else you want to do. You've been causing a lot of problems for me, you know. It almost makes me think you're trying to take advantage of my hospitality.”

“So what? You're going to fuck me anyway,” Law says, sweet as arsenic.

Doffy smirks down at him. “That's just for fun, sweetheart. I'm talking about work. Since you're here though, I could use some fun right now...” He takes Law by the arm and pulls him out of the chair. Law shoves him away and tries to dig his heels in, but even though the kid's gained some weight he still doesn't amount to much, and Doffy easily brings him along over to the desk.

He gets Law laid out on top of it, pushing his knees open to stand between them, and Law sneers.

“Why bother pretending you're not as much of a disgusting dog as anyone else? I knew it as soon as I saw you.”

Doffy grins at him, then flips him over onto his stomach, holding him pressed face first on the desk with a hand on the back of his neck. 

“Might as well fuck you like a bitch then, if that's what you think,” he says, leaning down to growl into Law's ear for effect as he reaches under him to undo the fly of his jeans. 

He drags them down just enough so he can get himself hard grinding against Law's bare ass while he digs through a desk drawer for lube and condoms. This elicits more struggling and hissed insults in the process, but between himself and the desk he's got Law pretty well pinned down. And he might be imagining it, but Law isn't putting up as much of a fight as he could have. Doffy hasn't even had to disarm him yet.

Law's ass accepts him more readily, squeezing greedy and hot around his fingers when he strokes lube into him. 

“You're pretty tight for someone who got fucked by any drunk with fifty bucks,” he remarks, scissoring his fingers apart and feeling his balls go tight at the sight of Law's slick hole opening up. “Didn't you let them use your ass? Or did you just sell your mouth?”

“Don't you ever shut up?” Law seethes. He's grabbed the edge of the desk with both hands, hard enough to make his knuckles go white when Doffy's fingertips skate over his sweet spot.

“I'm only curious. I want to know more about you, like how does a person who so clearly hates this,” he says, hooking his fingers to rub hard on Law's prostate and making him wince, “manage to make any money?”

He doesn't expect an answer from Law, and doesn't get one.

“I suppose not many people try to make you come, is that it? Do you want me to use you like one of your customers instead?”

Law has his jaw clenched tight, looking like he's trying not to scream, like Doffy is fucking him with a broken bottle instead of only playing with his ass.

“You know what I'm saying, right? I'll fuck you however you want, if you ask.” 

“Just do it already you fucking freak,” Law grits through his teeth.

Doffy slips his fingers out and gets his cock free one-handed. “I'll let that slide since you were good enough to come to me this time,” he says, rolling on a condom and spreading what remains of the lube over himself before pressing the head of his cock against Law's hole. 

Since he spent more time messing around with Law's prostate instead of actually loosening him up, Law's nice and wet but still tight as a vise. Doffy has to let go of his neck in favor of keeping his hips still so he can shove in. 

Law takes it silently, even though Doflamingo knows it must hurt, especially since he doesn't give him time to adjust before setting into him hard. The muscles in Law's back knot up, and he's plainly not enjoying any of the effort Doffy is putting into fucking his bitch ass good and rough, but despite that his face isn't locked into a grimace anymore. He looks relieved even, if Doffy had to give a name to that expression.

Doffy is tempted to change that. He could pound that sweet spot and see if he could really get Law to scream, or reach under him to play with his cock until he came like that. Law hated it when he did that last time. He doesn't drag it out more than he has to, though. When his climax is within reach he chases it down, curling over Law and grinding deep in his ass when it hits. 

He's pleased that Law decided to visit his study of his own accord, even if Law might not have expected to run into him there tonight. He hasn't figured out what kind of positive reinforcement works on the brat yet – forcing him into submission each and every time seems to be the only effective method of controlling him – for the moment the best he can do as a reward for good behavior is to not to torment him as much as he might otherwise.

And as much as he'd like to carry Law back to his room and continue until morning, it would work out in his favor to practice some restraint for now.

He lets go of Law when he's finished, and the kid is quick to push himself away from Doffy and the desk, tugging his jeans up on his way out of the room.

“You can take the book,” Doffy says with a grin, but Law ignores him, leaving the book where he dropped it on the floor and slamming the door behind him.

He'll get no appreciation from Law for holding back, if anything he would only earn more contempt, but Doflamingo couldn't help that. Eventually Law will figure out that he's never had any interest in pretending to be a better man in order to trick an obstinate brat into liking him. Honestly, it should be obvious he knows there's no hope of that – Law is clearly the type of person to hold grudges so long they festered.

He's still not certain if giving Law so much special treatment will pay off the way he wants, or if what he wants is even possible, no matter how subtly he tends the balance between too much freedom and too much force. But Law would never see the point in doing anything for him if he couldn't trust that Doflamingo isn't using him carelessly.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading


End file.
